The ground is slick and cold. I feel dirty, like I haven't bathed in days, and my eyelids feel like their nailed shut.

I can hardly move.

I groan as I feel pins and needles in my body, echoes of pain in each of my limbs.

I slowly push myself up, ignoring the cracking sounds of my stiff bones and gritting my teeth at the pain. I force my eyes open, blinking when they water heavily, and look I around. The floor is covered in grimy mold and what looks like dried blood, making me shudder. My throat feels like sandpaper, and I fight the urge to cough as I force myself to sit up. I'm in just my boxers, and I'm in some sort of cell.

There's windows slightly high up with rusted bars blocking them that connect this room to other cells. My hair is slightly matted and hangs in my face as I lean against the chilled, slimy wall. I'm too tried to care about the gunk sticking to my skin. Letting my eyes wander drowsily, I nearly jump out of my skin when the heavy metal door to my cell slowly swings open, grinding against the floor with an angry screech as it does.

A pair of clunky black combat boots strut into the room, carrying the biggest asshole I've ever met into the room. His stormy gray eyes bore into mine as he smirks at me darkly. I feel my blood run cold as I unconsciously press closer to the wall, farther away from him. All he does is grin at me sickly with that familiar shark-like smile.

"So you've finally woken up, sweetness," he greets in an overly excited voice.

I glare sharply at him. "Y-You," I accuse hoarsely, disgusted by the weakness in my voice and the thing standing in front of me.

He chuckles giddily. "Yup," Avery says, enunciating the "P" sound with a pop. He strides over to me and pulls me up by my hair, making me wince as flickers of pain race down my spine rapidly. I shrivel away from him when he pecks my nose with a shrill giggle. "I'm so happy you finally woke up," he rambles, dragging me along whilst he practically skips out of the room.

The hallway of cells we emerge into isn't much cleaner than the room I was in. I think wherever we are is abandoned, which lowers my hopes of being rescued.

"What...do you want...with me?" I ask, my voice still hoarse and throat still dry.

He giggles madly and stops in his tracks before turning to me. "That's just what I want." He smiles down at me and pulls me to his chest. I wriggle around violently, but I still am too weak to do anything. I can't even fight back when he roughly presses his lips to mine hungrily. "You," he adds quietly, making my lip curl in disgust.

I weakly shove him away. "Don't...fucking touch me!" I order harshly.

All he does is laugh at me.

"You'll be the submissive little pet you're meant to be soon enough," he states quietly, but with finality, before dragging me along once again.

I shiver in everything but pleasure as I'm forced to follow him down the rest of the hallway. We come into a large open room that looks suspiciously like a free area in an old prison, the kind you see on The Most Haunted Places shows. He throws me down in the middle of the room, making me slide across the rough concrete painfully. I wince as I feel my skin scrape against the concrete, causing rug burn along my side. Large barred windows line the walls, just out of reach, making me scowl in disappointment.

"Now, sweetie pop." I nearly groan at another one of his stupid nicknames. "Don't resist, and this will be a lot less painful." His overly sweet tone turns harsh and dark, making me shudder in fear.

I have a feeling that what he's planning isn't very "clean."

"Don't come near me!" I shout angrily, defiantly staring him down as he slowly circles me like a shark.

Why does he remind me so much of a shark?

He pulls a long, thin knife from seemingly out of nowhere and twirls it expertly between his fingers. His black boots make the only noise as he stalks toward me silently, his face now blank from all emotion except one.

Lust.

I want to scream my head and claw his eyes out as he stares at me. He makes my blood boil in anger. I can feel my circuitry heat up in alarm as my body floods with adrenaline, making sparks crackle along my body. Dakarians aren't built for conflict. We're natural peacemakers, but when we do fight we go all out, despite the fact that it can damage us. We're just stubborn.

I stand and raise my nose up in defiance, refusing to submit to him.

He simply shrugs at me. "That just makes this even more fun." His voice is husky and dangerous.

At first I thought he was just some horny asshole. Now, I know he is a psychotic, horny asshole.

He rushes at me with the knife poised. I dodge, but not fast enough to avoid getting grazed by the blade. I don't even have time to hiss in pain before being thrown off of my feet as he slams his foot into my side. I roll and rise to my feet as the sparks grow angrier. He rushes at me again, but this time I let loose the rapid energy inside me. It's not enough to drop him, but it stuns him enough for me to grab his knife. I point it at him pathetically, shaking badly from fear and nerves. I'm not prepared to take a life. Hopefully, he won't be able to call my bluff.

Clenching my jaw tightly, I force myself to still as he finally overcomes the electricity.

"Aw that's not nice, honeybun," he says in that overly sweet voice that I hate so much. I feel an angry spark crackle at it. He notices it, too, and starts to try and calm me down, noticing that the tables have turned.

"Sweetheart," he pleads.

Another crackle.

"Babe."

Two crackles.

"Just shut up!" I finally yell angrily, surprising myself with the amount of harshness and hate in my voice.

He blinks in surprise but clamps his mouth shut, thankfully.

I shake my head at him. "Why me?" I ask, forcing my voice to stay steady. "Why did you have to ruin my life again?" An angry tear slides down my cheek and throws itself from my chin, but I refuse to wipe it away. I'm not taking any chances with this monster.

"Oh, honey," he says with a ridiculous pout, "I didn't want to ruin your life. I just wanted to make mine better." He bats his eyelashes at me and grins, making me grit my teeth in disgust and anger.

I open my mouth to scream, yell, or curse (maybe all of the above), but I'm cut off by the main doors slamming open and someone shouting. Police officers rush in and quickly surround the monster in front of me, throwing handcuffs on him and hauling him to his feet. I drop the knife as I realize that they're staring at me with concern, awkwardly approaching me as if I were a wounded animal. I drop the knife, letting it clatter against the floor as tears stream silently down my face.

I look around until I notice a familiar blonde woman, slowly coming towards me, caution gleaming in her brown eyes. "C-Can I go home now?" I ask weakly, clutching myself as the sparks finally cease. She makes her way over to me with a solemn nod, taking off her jacket and comfortingly wrapping it around my shoulders.

"Come on, kid," she says quietly, gently guiding me out of the room and then building. The structure is huge, but the top of it seems to literally be falling apart. I'm glad I got out of there. It doesn't look like it'll hold for too long.

We get into a small government owned plane. I glance away from the simple yet high-tech design and out the window, catching a glimpse of a sign that tells me the building used to be a prison.

Surprise, surprise.

I awkwardly stand in the middle of the lounging area, unsure of what to do.

"There's a room with a shower and clothes of varying sizes," agent Mary tells me gently, pointing at a door to the left. "We'll treat your wounds first, and then, you can shower." I nod whilst an older lady wearing a lab coat hobbles into the room.

"M-Mable?"

She turns to me with a smile. Her wispy, smoke-colored hair hangs in a braid that rest on her shoulder, ending near her abdomen. "Hello, sweetheart," she greets, stepping towards me with a medical kit.

I feel relaxed enough to let her approach me while I sit down on a firm, business chair. I'm still in my boxers, so my wounds are in plain view. "I didn't expect you to work for the government," I comment as she gently wipes at my cuts and scrapes.

She hums softly. "Well, an old lady has to have an ace or two up her sleeve, right?" She chuckles heartily, making me smile and shake my head.

I glance at the blonde who sits across the room from us, watching with a tired smile. She seems exhausted, but that doesn't really surprise me. It must be a hard line of work.

"How's that spitfire of yours?" Mable asks mischievously, gently bandaging the heavier wounds on me.

I can't help the chuckle that escapes me. "Tame." I give her a wink and grin whilst she laughs heartily, practically cackling in amusement.

"All done," she says, gently patting the fresh, white bandages.

"Thanks," I say with a grateful smile. "I can shower with this, right?" I ask, gesturing to the wrapping. She smiles and nods at me.

I sigh in relief and take my leave, eager to shower. I feel like a shirtless hobo. The design is simple, and I didn't expect anything less. This is the government, after all. I peel off my boxers and step into the tepid spray, washing the grime off of my skin. I grimace in disgust as I watch filthy water pour back into the drain.

Was I really that dirty?

I sigh and continue bathing myself. Once the water falling away from me is clear, I start to use the shampoo and soap. I wash myself two or three times just to make sure I'm clean before I leave the shower.

I step into the actual bedroom area and am not surprised to find hardly any color or design implemented into it. Searching the closet, I pull on a slightly baggy white tee and some gray sweatpants that seem to be about the right size.

Gazing out of the window, I start to recognize the buildings.

We're almost home.

I feel myself grow giddy, but a thought crosses my mind, drowning out my happiness.

How long was I gone?

Venturing out into the main room, I start towards Mary as she boredly flips through some magazine that was lying nearby.

"What do you want, kid?" She asks, without looking up. Oh, yeah. She's definitely related to Michael.

"How long was I out?" I ask curiously, nibbling my lip in nervousness.

She glances up at me before looking back down to the plastic in her hands. "Today is the second day," she responds.

That's not so bad. At least it wasn't a week or a month, or something crazy like that.

"Why did he want me?" I ask, unable to stop myself from blurting it out.

She looks back at me with a sympathetic smile before patting the seat next to her. I plop down and eagerly await an explanation. "See, Avery was a contributor to a large ring of human traffickers." I nod slowly and let her continue. "He kidnapped people that fit his...taste, and would have his way with them before selling them."

We both go quiet for a moment.

"So, I was taken, because some horndog couldn't keep it in his pants?" I ask incredulously.

She chuckles dryly and nods. "Basically. We're just lucky that we were able to track your circuitry and find you before he could do anything." She looks at me and gives me a quick smile, rubbing my shoulder supportively. "We'll be able to move you soon," she says in a reassuring voice.

I quirk an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, I know you wouldn't wanna stay with Michael. He hates your kind."

Oh.

She doesn't know.

I hold back a smirk and look back to her. "I think I'll be fine."

She looks at me in confusion, opening her mouth to say something before being cut off by the plane landing in front of the house.

My house.

My home.

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BOOMBABY! LolIhopey'allnuggety readers enjoyedthischapter (don'tforgettocomment and shite ifyadid) Seey'allnuggetsinthenextupdate! Bai!!! >:3

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